The More Private Blog of John Watson
by ClaraStephens
Summary: After solving some cases and living with the great consultant detective, John's feelings towards his flatmate Sherlock Holmes begin to change. Things are about get much crazier than anyone could have imagined. And it's good, hell, it's perfect.
1. Chapter 1

~~Hey everyone! This is my first BBC Sherlock fic. so don't hate me! I hope I will keep up with this story for a long time, but when my express classes start at University in March things may get a little crazy :P anyway, here you go Sherlockians, I hope you all enjoy :) ~~

"Sherlock." John had said the man's name at least seven times. How is it possible for someone to be so completely unaware?

"Okay, I give up. I'm going out for a while." He paused and looked up towards the ceiling, as if perhaps someone up there at least heard what he was saying. "Why do I even bother telling him anything if he won't listen?" John was mumbling to himself as he tied his dirty old walking shoes.

"John. While you're out I need you to get a bottle of liquid argon."

"….where the hell am I supposed to find argon?"

"_Liquid _argon, John, and I'm sure it's not that difficult to find."

"Yeah, right, okay. Look I'm actually just going out for a quick walk."

"I'm sure it won't be that out of your way. London is a big city John. You can find anything you need on any street corner."

"Right, I'll try to remember to look for it. And Sherlock? I really don't want to see on some shop telly that our flat's been blown up while I'm out."

No reply.

John took this to mean it was officially time to leave the dark haired man to his… whatever-they-were thoughts.

He'd been out walking for at least an hour with his ipod before he finally made the hurried decision to please Sherlock's ridiculous request. He took the tube to the end of the line where St. Barts was awaiting him at the top of the dirty underground steps. He figured besides Sherlock there was really only one other person that he knew of who might have a clue.

"Molly," said John announcing himself as he walked into her wing.

"Oh, hello John!" she said with her usual sweet countenance. And then as always her expression instantly turned to apprehension. "Is Sherlock with you?" she asked smiling weakly.

"Ah, no. No it's just me. Do you by any chance have liquid argon?"

"It's in the back. Just let me go fetch it."

He thanked her with a polite nod and within a minute she'd returned with a little bottle.

"So what's he up to this time then? It's always something with him isn't it." She said handing him the strange liquid stuff.

"I actually have no idea. He's probably doing some sort of experiment I'll never really see the point of."

"It's funny, who knew anybody could actually live with Sherlock for so long and not run away. I guess we all have to keep things interesting though."

"Yeah, he's…yeah." John knew she would talk on and on about Sherlock if he didn't say something quick. "Well, I should really let you get back to your work. Sherlock will be expecting me back with this."

"I'll look forward to seeing you both again soon then I guess."

John looked around the morgue wondering if her last statement was a positive thing or not. He decided the best thing was to wave it off.

"Right well, see you later then." He said and he thanked her again on his way out the door.

Molly had a point. How had he stayed with Sherlock this long? Most people would flee the moment they realized there were human thumbs in the fridge. Why had he been so tolerant of his flatmate's odd behavior? Actually the real question was, why did he insist on going with Sherlock on all of his twisted and potentially life threatening endeavors? Sure it was exciting. Mycroft had made that evident to him from the very beginning days. But that seemed like a poor excuse for throwing oneself into peril all of the time. There had to be a stronger reason.

Perhaps he was just very intrigued by his friend's eccentricities. Or perhaps he enjoyed getting to see his beautiful body every day.

No.

No. That could not be it. Sherlock was strange, and a complete model sociopath, and slightly morbid, and way too intelligent for humanity. No, no, no. But he was incredibly…well, a lot of things made him incredible.

John spent the remainder of his tube ride back to Baker St. imagining his friend's hair as he let it air dry around the flat after putting on his blue bathrobe. Did he wear anything under it?

Okay this wasn't the first time John Watson had had thoughts like this about Sherlock Holmes. But perhaps he was silently beginning to at long last give in to them.

~~Okay! So I realize this first chapter is a little on the short side. Hopefully they will be longer from here on out. Do expect quite a bit of sexual tension in upcoming chapters. I realize who my audience is. I am one of you. We like it this way haha. Also I've just gone ahead and rated it M just in case my mind decides to go a little crazy :) Cheers! X ~~


	2. Chapter 2

~~ Hello all! I just want to say thank you to all who read the first chapter! I'm really enjoying writing this! Anyway here is a very awkward moment between our two favorite lovelies :) enjoy! ~~

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><p>"Here's your precious argon," said John announcing himself as he walked into the living room of 221B.<p>

Sherlock hadn't moved at all since he had set out at least two hours ago. Upon hearing John's voice he snapped back into reality, well, Sherlock's reality.

"Ah, thank you John." He said taking the bottle from his wet-haired flatmate. He spun around and darted for his tabletop of a thousand scientific items. John sat down in his favorite armchair, suddenly feeling that familiar sense that his mind needed to refocus itself for the millionth time that day.

"John."

Too late.

John sat silent for a few seconds before finally obediently responding.

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"You seem quiet. Anything out of the ordinary in London tonight?"

John hesitated for a moment. He knew exactly the answer to this, but he couldn't possibly say it.

"Uh no," he made up an answer quickly. "No it's just another rainy evening…why?"

Sherlock eyed him suspiciously. He could always tell when John didn't mean something. He was just about to pry for unknowingly the perhaps deepest corners of John's imagination, except a familiar text alert resonated throughout the room at that exact moment.

Sherlock eyed John curiously for perhaps another half second before turning swiftly to whatever text he'd just received.

John had a pretty good idea of what the text contained. And he suddenly felt a sharp cutting edge of… what was it? It couldn't be disappointment? Frustration? Jealousy?Whatever this feeling was, it was certainly making him feel like this whole day was turning into a letdown. Why? Oh yes, he'd begun to give in.

"Irene Adler. Apparently she's trying for lunch this time." Sherlock said putting the phone in his pocket. He seemed so unmoved by it. She hadn't even texted him in a few weeks, months maybe.

John had never really liked her; he also never really knew why he didn't like her. Okay, he did, but he didn't allow that excuse before.

John cleared his throat. "And you're not going to text back?" he said a little too…extremely weakly, or was it hopeful?

"No." Sherlock stared at him now, fully. The last time John had seen him look at him that way had been that first night in the café when John was trying to clear up whether or not Sherlock was attached to somebody or not. He disliked that look even more this time.

John tried to act like it was nothing. _It is nothing, this is nothing_. "Okay," he said at last. He had hoped this final remark would end the very needless tension.

"John," started Sherlock again, evidently very confused this time. "I…I'm going to go back to my work now."

"Right, yeah. Sorry. I'll just sit here quietly then." John said turning his head away from the…attractive…no, brilliant..._yes, that word is fine_, consultant detective. He picked up the day's issue of _The London Times_ and began reading every article.

After about an hour he finally realized he hadn't read a single word. His thoughts were becoming endless. He carefully turned his gaze back towards the silent detective across the room.

Eyes met.

Sherlock had been watching him for god knows how long. And for the first time ever, John wasn't sure if Sherlock was analyzing or studying.

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><p>~~ So yeah ;) and thus things begin! Please review if you like it! I'd love to consider your opinions for use in later chapters! :) ~~<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

~~ Greetings everyone on this bleak winter's evening! Well, at least it's pretty bleak on my end of the world :) I hope you are all enjoying thus far! Anyway, without much further ado, here is the epic confrontation scene :D ~~

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><p>A door opened down the hall in 221B. John was leaving his room. What was the look on his face? Unease.<p>

Sherlock watched him walk across the room and into the kitchen. John was about to open the fridge, and then two seconds later decided it was probably best not to. He then walked into the living room. Contemplated sitting down. Then walked towards a window to observe the greycast weather. He then paced back again, Sherlock interrupted before he could make another jerky movement.

"What are you doing John."

"I…just broke up with Lauren."

Sherlock made an 'I have no idea who you're referring to' face.

"Lauren, Sherlock. Lauren Patterson. She's a primary school teacher."

"Oh right, the one with the long stringy hair."

"Yeah. And I just broke up with her."

Sherlock watched as he finally sat himself down in his armchair.

"Why is this upsetting?"

John wondered for a moment how to respond. The real reason was obviously because he couldn't stop thinking about Sherlock when he was out with her. It was weird and becoming weirder. And pretty soon he wouldn't be able to have a normal conversation with her…or Sherlock for that matter. But he did feel that whatever was going on in his newly twisted head it wasn't fair to her.

'It just wasn't working."

"So…why are you upset? She wasn't the last woman in your world was she?"

Wait a minute. Did Sherlock emphasize those last few words? Fuck, what if he was reading John's mind? After all it was Sherlock Holmes, it wouldn't be that far fetched of an idea to assume that he already knew what was going on in John's head before he even did.

John merely replied distantly, avoiding eye contact, "I don't know."

He then, still avoiding the taller man's concentrated gaze, picked up his laptop to check the stats on his blog. He had to change the subject.

"I've got 857 viewers so far today."

"John, is there a reason you changed the subject so quickly?"

All of John's blood rushed to his face, and his heart began racing it.

"No, I just don't want to talk about it."

"You always see reason to tell me everything about your pathetic love life. Although usually I half listen because it's incredibly dull. But not this time. This time there is something else going on in your head and I'm not going to lie it's actually intriguing to watch. But what is it? You're getting more and more nervous the more I pry, and your face is blushed, and unless I'm mistaken I believe you're trying to conceal your hands beneath your laptop because they're shaking uncontrollably. As for your eyes, they're a little too shifty for you to be 'alright'. I suppose whatever it is your hiding is big, well maybe an epiphany for you. Not to mention the way you walked into the room. Please John, I've never been an idiot. Anyone could have picked up on that clumsy walk. It's almost like you're _trying_ to say whatever it is, so you may as well just say it. I probably will have it figured out by nightfall anyway."

John looked at him horrorstruck. He was completely speechless. How could he possibly tell him? The whole idea of it was still so new and completely absurd. No way was John Watson going to profess his undying love for his way-too-arrogantly-brilliant flatmate.

_Undying love? Is that what it is now? Oh, great. Well that's just bloody fantastic._

He figured it was obvious, Sherlock was right. How much longer could he keep this awkward fumbling around with words going? Sherlock was already starting to make assumptions. And john knew that sooner or later, probably within the next hour one of those assumptions would be right. He thought about it for a moment. After about ten seconds of unknowingly staring at Sherlock he knew he had to give up.

What's the worst that will happen? Okay, he either will be okay with it…maybe even more than okay. Or you can lodge somewhere else in the city. It's not that difficult to pack up one room.

This was it. He stood up and walked towards the first step of the stairs so he could make a quick escape.

"Okay. The truth is, I'm not sure how interested I really am in women. In fact," he paused for a moment, studying his friend's unmoved expression. He stopped breathing and at last spoke again. "In fact I'm not entirely sure…I think, well, I think you're the reason why."

John suddenly felt an intense amount of relief and strength wash over his mind and body. Suddenly he could do anything. He had said it. He turned around and made for the front door.

He was free. Free from his isolated thoughts, free from 221B and free from the amazing man that lived there. He was just about to the crosswalk on Baker St. leading towards Regent's Park when he heard a too familiar voice calling his name out a little ways behind him.

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><p>~~ Voila! how did you like Sherlock's choice in words for analyzing John? I enjoyed writing this chapter so much I am already formulating the next one as I'm sitting here typing this! So stay tuned my fellow Sherlockians, it's going to get better: all has now been revealed...well, not ALL perhaps ;) ~~<p> 


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